


Mutual

by redcandle17



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Maledom/Femsub, Mildly Dubious Consent, Slit Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4988593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/pseuds/redcandle17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toast seeks to make amends after shooting Slit by letting him "have her." It doesn't work out as intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutual

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for the kink meme prompt "Toast has never had sex she liked. It's always either been rape (like with Joe) or just plain bad. She's not even aware that sex is a thing women can enjoy. So she ends up in bed with Slit for whatever reason (bargaining for something maybe, or as a thank you for doing whatever), ready to lie back and think of England, but finds she enjoys it. A lot. Multiple orgasms. And she's never had even one before. Bonus points: if she discovers she enjoys being submissive (in bed ofc, being tough-as-nails as always, outside of bed). I'm hella submissive so that would hit all of my kinks, but if you feel that'd be OOC for her, it's fine either way"

Toast would never be certain what exactly happened. She remembered a particularly frightening-looking War Boy coming towards her with a blade in his hand. She didn’t remember pulling the trigger of her weapon. She remembered shouts and the sudden realization that it was her the little War Pups were running from in fear. She remembered the War Boy on the ground, gasping for breath, blood pooling beneath him.

Everyone who’d been there said she’d shot him without provocation. If it was just other War Boys and Pups, she’d have been certain they were lying for one of their own. But workers from the treadmill and the hydro pump had seen it too and they also said the War Boy hadn’t even been looking at Toast, that he’d been adjusting the knife sheath on his arm. They had no reason to lie, not when she was their advocate and when War Boys still referred to them as ‘rats’.

The way Capable looked at Toast hurt. She cradled the War Boy’s head in her lap while the Organic Mechanic worked to save his life. Even the Dag and Cheedo seemed horrified despite their words of support.

Furiosa declared it an unfortunate accident, but the tension between the War Boys and everyone else was renewed. Toast had been among those who’d thought the War Boys couldn’t be trusted to accept the reformed Citadel, who hadn’t wanted them allowed back. She’d been outvoted, but it was only now that she realized the War Boys had reason to fear the rest of the Citadel as much as they were feared.

Toast had never killed anyone. She was prepared to kill to defend herself and preserve her freedom, but the thought that she might have killed someone for no reason horrified her. No matter that it was a War Boy who’d probably killed lots of people himself without any remorse. She was supposed to be better than him.

The Organic Mechanic’s infirmary was merely a dimly lit cavern with narrow benches carved out from the rock walls. The War Boys called it the “Blood Shed” and it seemed an appropriate name. Once the Organic Mechanic had gotten the bleeding stopped and sewed up the wounds, they found a donor to give blood to replenish the War Boy.

Toast tried to volunteer, but her blood type was different from his. However, her attempt to help did convince Capable that the shooting truly had been unintentional. She left the unconscious War Boy and came to embrace Toast.

“What’s his name?” Toast asked. She didn’t know any of the War Boys, but Capable knew them all. 

“Slit. He’s kind of a jerk. If you had to shoot someone, he was a good choice.”

Capable was probably only saying that to make her feel better. “Tell me something about him.”

“He’s a lancer. He’s fond of calling other people ‘mediocre’.” Capable was quiet for a moment, then she added, “Nux was his driver.”

Toast felt even worse. Nux had been the one War Boy who’d proven himself different, proven he could overcome Joe’s indoctrination. He’d sacrificed himself so they could escape Joe’s pursuit. And she’d nearly killed his friend.

Everyone else drifted away eventually, but Toast stayed. She curled up on the ground next to the bench bearing the unconscious Slit. She needed him to wake up, needed to be sure he wouldn’t die and leave her a murderer.

She was half conscious from exhaustion when she finally heard him coughing and looked to see his eyes open.

“You’re alive!”

He recognized her immediately. “You shot me!”

“I’m sorry,” Toast apologized. “I thought… I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’re sorry I’m not dead,” he replied bitterly.

“I’m sorry I shot you,” she said again. She wouldn’t be forgiving either if someone had shot and nearly killed her for no reason. She could live with not being forgiven, but she needed him to believe that she regretted what had happened. “Please believe me.”

“Why should I believe you? You want us all dead.”

“I don’t,” Toast insisted. “Not really.”

He snorted and then clasped a hand to his chest as if even that had been too much exertion. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“You literally worshipped the man who raped me and kept me captive. Of course I’m wary of War Boys. I’d have killed you if I had to when you and your brothers were chasing us down for Joe, but please believe that I didn’t try to kill you yesterday.”

“Yesterday?”

“I think it’s almost morning.”

“What are you doing here?! I don’t see your gun. You think you can kill me without it just ‘cause my engine block’s shot up? I can still snap your little neck.” He was breathing heavily and struggling to sit up. 

“I’ll go,” Toast said quickly. “You’re not supposed to move. Settle down.”

She got a few hours of restless, nightmare-filled sleep, but daylight didn’t make things better. Everything felt different. People looked at her differently and she was certain she was the topic of their whispers. The War Pups wouldn’t come near her; they ran away whenever they spotted her. 

Gradually, though, most things settled back to normal. But the nightmares persisted. Toast was used to nightmares. She was used to being pursued by monsters in her dreams. But in these nightmares she was the monster. Over and over she dreamt she massacred everyone in the Citadel. She dreamt of killing her sisters and the pups, and in the dreams she was sick with horror and screaming at herself to stop, but she couldn’t. 

Guilt made her check on Slit two or three times a day. Even after he was out of the infirmary and on light duty in the repair bays, Toast needed to reassure herself that he was okay. 

“Thanks for the Aqua Cola, it almost makes up for nearly dying mediocre.” 

Toast winced. Slit seemed to take great satisfaction in reminding her that she’d almost killed him. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized yet again. She sighed. “I’d do anything to prove it to you.”

“Oh?” He looked her up and down suggestively. 

_Except that_ , she was about to reply. Then she thought about it. The idea of being used by one of Joe’s boys was horrible - as horrible, no doubt, as getting shot in the chest. It could be a sort of penance for her and make things even between them. 

“Would you believe me if I let you fuck me?”

“You wouldn’t,” he scoffed. 

“You can fuck me right now.” 

Toast moved nearer to him, but he backed away from her. 

“Not now,” he said. “When I’m running on all cylinders again.”

Despite knowing what awaited her, Toast felt much better. The nightmares came less frequently and eventually stopped. Even her sisters noticed the change in her. Capable kissed her cheek and told her she was glad she’d forgiven herself. Toast didn’t tell her or the others what she planned to do. They wouldn’t understand. 

She wasn’t prepared for the dread she felt when Slit approached her dozens of days later. He was fully healed and looking utterly dangerous. 

“You probably didn’t mean it,” he said. He’d stopped not far from a large metal barrel as if he was ready to take cover if she shot at him again.

“I meant it.” 

She beckoned to him to follow her. She’d already chosen a place for it to happen. The room that used to belong to Scotus had never been used since he’d left. No one went there even now. The sense of terror associated with its former occupant was still alive. But Joe’s eldest son had already been gone by the time Toast had been brought to the Citadel and so this room was just a room to her.

If the location made Slit uneasy, he didn’t show it. There was a large bed in the center of the room, but he put a hand around her throat and pinned her to the door. He didn’t squeeze, wasn’t actually hurting her, but the threat of it was enough. She didn’t move or speak, not wanting to risk being choked. She felt fingertips on her shoulder and then all the way down her bare arm. It was a much lighter touch than she was expecting. 

Suddenly he pulled her back against him. He felt almost as solid as the door and his hand was still around her throat, holding her trapped in place. He slid his other hand under her shirt, slowly sliding higher and higher. He stopped just short of touching her breasts, but the anticipation of it was almost as strong as actual touch. She felt both warm and like shivering.

“If you really weren’t trying to kill me, then why’d you shoot me?”

He was so close that hearing his voice was almost a physical sensation, one she felt throughout her whole body.

“I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Just afraid.”

His hand finally moved up to her breasts and his touch remained gentle. Toast didn’t trust it. War Boys weren’t gentle, and one she’d shot and almost killed was even less likely to be gentle. She decided he must be trying to lull her into a false sense of safety. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But you know how you look, don’t you?”

“I’m the chromest fucking War Boy in the whole Citadel,” he replied, and he nipped her earlobe.

Toast couldn’t help the sound she made. She didn’t understand how it could feel like he was touching her much more intimately than he actually was. She’d been with men before Joe, but she’d never felt like this.

The hand that had been playing with her breasts slid down and began to unbutton her pants. Toast tensed. Finally he was going to stop toying with her and fuck her.

But he left her pants half undone and moved his hand back up to her breasts. He kissed a spot just behind her ear and Toast just barely managed to stop herself from sighing. She didn’t understand what was going on. She tried to turn, to look at him so she could read his face, but the hand around her throat tightened. She still wasn’t quite being choked, but she had to breathe carefully.

“What are you doing?”

“Figuring out how you’re wired.”

Toast didn’t speak War Boy, but she didn’t ask for an explanation. She just waited.

Nothing happened.

She was acutely aware of Slit, of his hands around her throat and on her breasts, of his body against her back, and of his breath in her ear. She’d never known it was possible to feel both afraid and safe. She was about to ask why nothing was happening when he suddenly let her go.

She turned so she could see him and he began stripping her clothes off her without a word. When she was naked, he tossed her face first onto the bed. Toast stayed where he’d put her, listening to him undress. She felt the bed dip under his weight and then he was sliding an arm around her waist and lifting her up onto her knees. He smoothed his hands over her ass and down her thighs and back up.

Toast looked around for something to distract her. There were stains the color of dried blood on the bare mattress. She closed her eyes.

She heard Slit exhale loudly. He sounded weary or perhaps disappointed. Toast couldn’t imagine why.

She felt him caressing her back and then he kissed her shoulder. He stayed folded over her like that for a long time. Then he kissed the back of her neck, right where she knew Joe’s brand was. 

“Relax,” he ordered. “I’m just going to fuck you, not going to hurt you.”

“Then why don’t you just get it over with?!”

“I’m waiting for you to stop making me feel like I’m forcing you. Relax.”

“I can’t.”

“You did earlier.”

She felt his fingertip stroking the center line of her back. That too felt more intimate than it should. It was just her back. He slid both hands under her, lifting her chest off the bed so he could twist her nipples. It felt good, but not the warm and safe kind of good like before. This feeling had an edge of anticipation and fear that she felt deep inside all the way down to her cunt. She realized this must be excitement. 

“Slit?”

She could feel his lips on her ear, could _feel_ his voice when he answered. 

“Yeah?”

“Could I be on my back instead?” She might be able to relax like he wanted if she could see what was coming next. 

“Thought you were afraid of how I look.” 

Toast didn’t have a response to that. “Please?”

He flipped her over and, as if to make sure she got a good look at his gruesome scars, stuck his face so close to hers that their noses touched. Or maybe she’d read his intentions wrong. This close she could only see his eyes. 

“Do War Boys kiss?” she asked.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” His tone was odd, but Toast refused to analyze it. 

She couldn’t lie, but she refused to admit the truth. She settled for saying, “I was curious.” 

“You want to know how a War Boy kisses, Knowing?” He seemed amused. 

She waited. 

“I’ll kiss you if you ask me nicely.”

“Kiss me, please.” 

Toast wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t what happened. What happened was the sweetest, gentlest kiss she’d ever had. 

“Well?” he said, when it was over. “Curiosity satisfied?”

He was mocking her, but Toast was too shaken not to reply earnestly. “Is that how you always kiss?”

“No,” he admitted. 

She should leave it at that. She wanted to. She regretted bringing up the subject. But she couldn’t stop herself. “Then why?”

“Didn’t you like it?”

“That’s not the point. Why are you being like this?! Just get it over with. I shot you!”

“I’ve been shot plenty of times, but I’ve never had something like you before. Going to take my time. Going to do it right.” 

That sounded ominous to Toast.

She only realized how tightly she had her legs closed when he forced them apart. She held her breath, bracing herself for the worst part. But it didn’t come in the form she expected.

He touched her cunt and then looked at her with surprise. “You’re wet! You must not be as afraid as I thought you were.”

She could feel it now as his fingers stroked her. It felt good, though she was still very much afraid.

“Or maybe being afraid gets your motor running.”

“No,” Toast denied vehemently. She was mortified. “It’s never happened before.”

He looked smug. “Must be ‘cause I’m so chrome then.”

She wanted to argue, but she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t understand it herself. Toast didn’t like that. She could always be sure of herself even when she wasn’t sure of anything else around her. Except for when she’d shot him. And now this. She didn’t understand why this particular War Boy affected her so strongly.

He was looking at his fingers sliding in and out of her. Toast studied him, trying to understand. Black engine grease covered the upper half of his face and a thick layer of white powder covered everything else – almost everything, she amended, after glancing at his cock. He had scars carved into patterns and shapes on most of his skin, as well as messier scars from healed injuries. Those were all things that marked him as one of Joe’s creatures and scared her still. But she could admire what was beneath that, the broad shoulders and the long limbs and the muscles. Even his face… the staples holding his torn cheek close didn’t distract completely from his strong jaw. He was a contradiction, somehow both ugly and attractive.

He looked up suddenly and caught her staring at him. Toast felt something like fear. Slit leaned in close. This kiss wasn’t sweet or gentle, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It made the not-fear feeling stronger. She touched his shoulder hesitantly, curious what he felt like. He felt as warm as her or anyone else. She didn’t know why that surprised her.

He drew back and just looked at her for a moment. And then, so quickly that she didn’t realize what was happening until it’d happened, he slammed his cock inside her. 

Toast gasped. She felt betrayed. She must have let it show because he leaned close again and kissed her cheek. 

“Got nothing left to be afraid of now, right?”

He was wrong about that, but Toast wasn’t going to tell him about the things Joe had done when he was angry or bored. Slit was trying to be kind. He hadn’t moved, he just stayed fully sheathed inside her. 

It didn’t hurt. In fact… Toast focused on the feel of his cock filling her cunt. In fact, it felt _good_. She squeezed down, trying to increase the sensation.

“Fuck,” Slit swore. And he began to fuck her. 

It wasn’t slow or gentle at all. It was exactly as she expected from a kami-crazy War Boy. She’d been prepared to endure this. She hadn’t been prepared to feel as if she was driving a car as fast as it could possibly go but without anyone chasing her. It was the only thing she could think of to compare it to. 

Except the speed kept accelerating. If she was driving, she’d have lost control of the vehicle. Was this why War Boys worshipped cars? 

The feeling was building, leading to something. To a crash, she thought, but no. What happened was an explosion. 

She’d never imagined anything could ever feel so good. 

“You asleep?”

Toast had forgotten about Slit. She’d forgotten about everything and everyone. She didn’t want to do anything or even to think. It was an effort to open her eyes and look at him. 

“That good, huh?” He chuckled, but it didn’t sound like he was laughing at her. He sounded pleased. He was lying beside her, obviously having finished while she’d been too gone to notice.

The intense pleasure had faded to drowsy contentment. But it was spoiled as she remembered how she’d ended up here. She hadn’t anticipated this and so any expectation she’d had of what happened next was meaningless. She wanted something, but she didn’t even know what, though she knew it was something she couldn’t have. 

She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Slit touch her cheek. He looked concerned. 

“You hurt? I thought you enjoyed it. Sorry I hurt you.”

She shook her head. “No. I did enjoy it.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” Toast admitted. 

“Stop it.” It was a plea. 

She was making him uncomfortable, but she couldn’t get the tears to stop. She turned away from him and curled in on herself. She honestly didn’t know why she was crying. 

She was surprised when she felt Slit’s arm around her and his chest pressed against her back. Strangely, it made her start to feel better almost immediately. 

“I think I’ve figured it out,” she announced, moments later.

“Must be why they call you the knowing,” he said, but his tone made it friendly teasing, not mockery. 

“I never enjoyed it like that before,” she said. “But we wouldn’t even have fucked if I hadn’t shot you for no reason and wanted to show you how sorry I was. I’m probably crying because it won’t happen again.”

“Why not? I can do it again real soon.”

That wasn’t what she’d meant. But it was a remarkable revelation to Toast to realize that they could fuck again simply because she wanted to, and that if she did, he expected and wanted her to enjoy it as much as he did. She hadn’t believed it earlier when he seemed to have ceased caring about her shooting him. She understood now though. She no longer cared that he’d been Joe’s loyal War Boy; she wanted to feel again what she now knew he could make her feel. 

“Okay,” she said. “Yes, please.” 

He grabbed her chin and turned her head so he could kiss her, apparently as eager to have her again as she was to be had.

Good.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, this is different than I usually write Toast/Slit, but the awesome thing about fan fic is that each new one is like pressing reset.


End file.
